


The Only Certainty Left

by moovelope



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Giving Up, ghosts in the TARDIS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-16
Updated: 2012-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 06:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moovelope/pseuds/moovelope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only thing left to do is lay down in the TARDIS and wait for the universe to burn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Only Certainty Left

You play until the batteries run out; stall until all your resources are gone.  Only then can you ever take action, set to work, save the day.  In your life you don't actually take time and it's progression to 100% of your hearts.  You have all the time in the universe to start on your newest project, newest problem.  It's only when you dip your feet in that the rush and stress and strain hit you. 

At times you wish to simply sit still and avoid it all. If you don’t peak your head out the door, you won't get embroiled with the real world.  You could leave the responsibility, the decisions, the future, behind and just sit, safe in your own corner of the universe.  But, you are a selfish creature, and however many times you wished to remove yourself from everything, you unwittingly draw yourself back in.  Oh, maybe just _one_ little trip here, or just _one_ quick companion there.  You set yourself up for heartache just by being who you are: a time lord with too much time on his hands, too many responsibilities, and too many people depending on you. 

Your meddling and planet saving is written in the fabric of time and space itself, conveniently hidden just from view.  Oh, you can see what may or may not happen, but you never see how exactly you are involved or what you do to effect that time.  And yet, there's always more for you to do, more people to save (they're becoming more and more like shapeless masses to you) more planets to save (just a swirling ball of rock or gas, who cares?) and more time to spend forever marching forward.  One day you're going to stare into the eyes of someone you know, a person you think you may have cared for at one point, and wonder why.  They are only just a collection of angles, skin, bones, brain functions, a splattering of neuron induced emotions and expressions.  People are just things and you are sick of picking up, mending, doting on your once favorite toys.

You close the doors of your TARDIS, lie down on the floor and simply drift through time and space, wondering how long it will take for the universe to destroy itself without you there.  The lights in the control room slowly die, the hum of the ship becomes muted, and the phone rings off the hook until you finally disconnect it.

The TARDIS is old and now it is haunted.  Perhaps it’s an emergency program designed to get you back on track, or perhaps your mind is playing tricks on you.  Either way, there are ghosts that linger in the halls, sit next to the console and try to bring you tea.  Well, only one does.  They are the memories of people long gone, far away, far from any part of you that should still care.  Their faces blend together, all worried edges, accusatory stares or acceptance. 

“C’mon Space Man, get yourself out of this funk,” a woman with bright red hair yells at you.  You stare at her until she clutches her head and sobs, only to look back up and ask, “Who are you?”

“This is so out of character for you, Doctor, giving up and letting all those people die.  Hell, if only you were like this before!  I’d have loved a partner before you killed me,” a man with several faces taunts.  You don’t look at him, ignore his presence, and ignore the taptap, taptap, of his hearts.  At one point in time you would have dedicated your life to this man, kept him in the TARDIS for the rest of your lives.  He was a soft spot and weakness and a mistake.  You ignore him until the ranting stops.

“Doctor, Doctor please don’t do this.  Pick your head up, yeah?  Please, just look at me.  I’ll stay this time.  I won’t let go and disappear.  I’m here for you,” a blonde woman begs.  She may have owned your hearts at one point, but now you’re too tired to pay much attention to her.

Your last visitor says nothing at all.  She sits next to your now silver covered head, propped up on a pillow in your room.  She sits and holds your hand as your breathing becomes labored and shallow.  It’s her words that bring you the biggest peace.

“Go to sleep now, Grandfather.  You deserve a rest.”

So you slip your eyes closed as her voice fades away.  You don’t notice the sudden silence of the TARDIS, or the complete extinguishing of the lights.  The last thing you notice is pure, simple, crushing relief.

Too bad it also felt like regret.

 

_I'm old enough to know that a longer life isn't always a better one. In the end, you just get tired. Tired of the struggle. Tired of losing everyone that matters to you. Tired of watching everything turn to dust. If you live long enough, Lazarus, the only certainty left is that you'll end up alone.-The Doctor, The Lazarus Experiment_


End file.
